


In the Evening

by Fader



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bunker Fic, Castiel in the Bunker, Comfort Food, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Smut, Fallen!Castiel, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Human!Castiel - Freeform, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Post-Season/Series 08, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 14:27:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4482773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fader/pseuds/Fader
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-season 8 human!Cas domestic fluff. Lots of food and Cas enjoying it immensely. And later lots of touching, promise (also with Cas enjoying it immensely).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When the Day is Done

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nicKnack22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicKnack22/gifts).



> I started writing this at least a month ago as a birthday one-off for my darling Musingsdeme, but then I got really busy with school stuff and the story grew up bigger while I wasn't looking. Oops. That's what happens I guess when you're used to writing quick poems in a sitting or two. I've forgotten how to keep a narrative on a leash. 
> 
> Anyway, happy birthday, Musey! I promise I will not hold out on finishing your birthday gift for too long!
> 
> <3

Instead of knocking, his fist falls open and the pads of his fingers come silently to rest on the smooth whorls of wood grain. That muscle in his jaw clenches. He closes his eyes, then turns away. It’s late. 

In his own room – and normally he would feel that little thrill at that, his own room with his records and picture of Mom and everything, the novelty has never really worn off – Dean strips down to flop in bed. Heaves yet another sigh. God, he’s pathetic. A lifetime of hunting monsters and he can’t work up the cojones to knock on Cas’s door. 

Flipping to his back, Dean presses a pillow over his face. So fucking stupid. The guy rolls in clearly a mess: raccoon eyes, filthy hoodie, hair somehow even more wild than usual, and Dean’s blathering on about angels and trials and it doesn’t fully click until Cas crumples at the bottom of the stairs into the bunker and pleads, “Dean. I just need to eat something. Anything. Please.” He’s human, or as close as a guy like Cas can get, and now, after eating every scrap of food left in the bunker and a shower that lasted two hours if it lasted a minute (not that Dean was listening), he’s been in that room over a day and Dean can’t even bring himself to check on him. 

“Fuck.” Dean rolls out of bed and pulls his jeans back on. Shirt, socks, shoes, and he’s out the door and down the hall. He hears soft snores from Sammy’s room. Kid’s been sleeping 12 hour nights and spending the rest of his days with his nose in a book or taking tentative walks in the woods near the bunker. He’s been ranging farther every day (not that Dean’s been following). 

Squeezing the keys sharp into his palm, Dean stalks out to the Impala. The nearest store open this late is over an hour away in Concordia, but they’re down to frozen peas and whatever apocalypse rations the Men of Letters stocked away. And he could use the drive. He slides into the seat and slips a cassette in the deck. A soft, haunting intro winds through the speakers. By the time the first riff comes down hard, a cool wind is in his face and his shoulder blades are already relaxing down his back. 

***

The big store is nothing but stock boys and a couple daze-eyed shoppers staring at cans, which is just fine with him. Dean grabs a cart and heads to produce, figuring he’ll pick Sammy up some of that organic whatever it is he likes before he really gets down to business. While picking out the leafy stuff, some apples, some oranges, Dean’s eyes land on the bananas. He pauses, smirks a little, and dumps a bunch in the cart. He finishes out the shopping trip with all the old standbys, some extras, and a wink at the bored twenty-something manning the register. 

***

It’s getting ready to switch over from late to early when Dean rolls back into the bunker. He’s got 4 bags on each arm plus a 6-pack of beer in each hand and he almost drops all of it as he maneuvers down the last two steps into the dark kitchen and catches a darker outline of head and shoulders at the table.

“Hello, Dean.” 

“Jesus, Cas, you ever heard of a light?”

“I don’t know where the light switch is. I’ve never had to turn them on before.”

Dean huffs out a breath that’s not quite a laugh and dumps the groceries on the countertop before turning to flip the lights on. “There. You hungry? You were asleep all day and I wasn’t sure what you liked, but I got Sammy’s favorites and stuff for burgers and some other things you can try if you want ‘em.”

When Dean turns to look at Cas, his hair is completely flat on one side and sticking straight out just about everywhere else. The dark circles under his eyes are somewhat lighter, and all the dirt is gone. So is the filthy hoodie, for that matter. In its place is one of Dean’s grey henleys, with a pair of his jeans to match, both just a bit too loose. Dean swallows and feels that muscle in his jaw flexing again as he turns back to unpack the groceries. 

“I think I would enjoy trying Sam’s favorites. And yours as well. I never truly appreciated the variety of foods that humans eat. Not that I ate much while coming here. I had no money. But there was a sandwich at one of the shelters that I enjoyed.”

Dean presses his hands hard into the counter for a moment, then pulls out the last of the groceries and puts the bags aside. “Well now, that’s something I can help you with.”

Most of the groceries are put away, but Dean’s left a few things out on the counter. He adds a couple plates to the mix and sets to work: bread, bananas, honey, extra crunchy peanut butter. “Tomorrow I’ll make you the best damn burger known to man. But whenever Sammy woke up in the middle of the night, there was one thing that would always get him back to bed.”

Dean slices the sandwich in triangles and drops the plate off in front of Cas before going to make his own sandwich. Cas’s eyes widen a bit as he picks up the sandwich and inspects it (not that Dean’s watching). A bit of honey oozes out onto his finger. Cas licks it away, then turns to Dean, eyebrows raised. “This is honey?”

Dean quickly looks down at the bread in front of him. “Yeah. Probably not as good as the stuff you got. From, you know, uh. The bees.” Dean feels heat rise in his face and clears his throat. 

Cas smiles. “I like it.” 

Dean can’t help but smile back. He puts the finishing touches on his food and heads to the table, gesturing at the sandwich still in Cas’s hand. “Well don’t just stare at it.” Cas takes a bite and closes his eyes with a sigh as Dean sits. “Good?” 

“Mmf’ss frrery rrg.” Dean takes that as a “yes.” Grinning, he takes a big bite of his PB&J. 

They eat in silence for a few moments. Cas is clearly having a life-altering experience over there, and Dean is content to let him enjoy the experience. When Cas has cleaned his plate of every last crumb and smear of honey (by way of far more finger licking than Dean is really comfortable with, to say nothing of the appreciative noises), he lets out a long, happy sigh. “Thank you, Dean.”

“Anytime, Cas.” Dean focuses on the sandwich in his hands for another couple bites until he can’t ignore that stare Cas is giving him anymore. Mostly because it’s now accompanied by a hand hovering halfway across the table. The stare is a bit down from where he expected it, and when Dean looks up that seems to give the hand courage to continue. Cas’s thumb swipes across Dean’s bottom lip, a bit off-center. Without thinking, Dean licks his lips and looks at Cas’s. 

Cas sucks a glob of jelly from his thumb and hums appreciatively. “Yours is good too.”

Dean blinks. “Oh. Yeah.” He holds out the last of the PB&J. “You want some?”

***

Dean wakes up later than he meant to, and tired. These late nights have been getting harder lately. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he shuffles to the bathroom for a shower and doesn’t think about Cas’s hands or the way his tongue found every last taste of jelly, not even a little. 

He yawns and stretches his way into the kitchen to see Cas holding a bag of coffee and squinting, brows furrowed, at the coffee maker as if he could glare it into submission. Turning at the sound of Dean’s steps, he holds out the bag, and clearly Dean’s guess that Cas’s voice couldn’t hold anymore gravel had been a serious underestimation of the power of sleep and a serious distaste for mornings. “I don’t understand this machine.” 

Dean stifles a snort and takes the bag. “Sit down before you smite something.” He should have guessed Cas wouldn’t be a morning person. The former angel takes a sullen seat at the table and returns to promising vengeance to the coffee maker with his eyes. Dean pulls out the coffee grinder and goes to work, mulling over the idea of breakfast as the coffee maker starts to spit and grumble. “Where’s Sammy at?”

“Running.” Cas’s tone makes it clear that his current distaste for the idea rival’s even Dean’s own. 

“Guess I’ll have to make us a breakfast that makes him question his life choices, eh Cas?” Dean opens the fridge and starts pulling out eggs, milk, bacon, cheese. He preheats pans and pours coffee as the bacon starts to sizzle. By the time Cas is on his third cup and Dean has plated the second omelet, Cas is looking like his relationship with life is on the mend. Dean sets out the plates and drops into the seat across from Cas, more than a little proud of his fine egg craftsmanship. He points his fork at Cas. “Now dig into that and tell me that it’s not the best breakfast you’ve ever had.” 

Cas doesn’t respond, but he does set down his mug and pick up his fork. 

***

Dean could (does) watch Cas eat for days. Not in, like, a weird way. It’s just that Cas’s eyes seem to light up with every new flavor or texture. Each meal has him moaning around his food and closing his eyes with pleasure. He starts asking questions, starts watching Dean’s movements as he cooks. He learns to make his own PB&J, and they start going through loaves of bread like Jesus is passing them out.


	2. Under Your Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The obligatory "Sam wants to go to the farmer's market" chapter. There is lots of jelly and only a little jam.

Sam gets Cas on board with a trip to the local farmer’s market – his first trip out of the bunker since nearly passing out from hunger at the bottom of the stairs – by telling him about a woman there who makes her own jelly, and with two sets of pleading eyes – one giant puppy and one pouting fallen angel with a stubborn streak that means it's already out of his hands anyway – on him, Dean can't do much other than offer to drive. 

Sam is in his element, talking up the farmers and families tending the stalls like he's some born and raised local. Dean leaves him to it, figuring the place is small enough that even with a good number of people around not much can happen here without him hearing. Besides, they have jelly to hunt.

The jelly woman is at the end of the row of stalls, and it takes them a good half an hour to get there. Cas has his nose in the air, taking breaths so deep that Dean is worried he’ll hyperventilate. He gets sidetracked by bright red tomatoes, runs his fingers over and over their skins. Then he does the same with the apricots, marveling at their fuzzy shades of orange. Dean’s pretty sure he does hyperventilate a bit when they get to a stand of herbs and greens and Cas sticks his nose in a bunch of every single kind. Dean shifts from foot to foot and his cheeks are warm, but there’s a fluttering pleasure in his chest, too, and he feels the corner of his lips quirking up (his cheeks feel even warmer when he notices). “Come on, Cas,” he says, slapping him on the back as he’s sniffing the mint. “You wanna go see the jelly?” 

Cas stands up and leans back into Dean’s hand, tilting his head back to shine the broadest grin Dean has ever seen on his face right at Dean. “It's so fresh! And…” He hums, eyes bright. “And sharp. It smells sharp.”

Dean’s next breath feels like it comes through a straw. He just smiles back for a good couple seconds, and there don't seem to be any words in his brain. 

“Sharp on its momma’s side and damp on its pappa’s.” The woman tending the stall drawls. “’Lotta people don't know peppermint’s a hybrid.” 

Dean’s throat loosens around a long exhale. He can't decide if he's glad or devastated by the interruption, but whatever it is, it’s strong. Cas’s curiosity has been piqued and it's taken that bright, open gaze with it. The woman explains spearmint and watermint and how peppermint runs wild if you let it. The words wash over Dean and the roiling tangled something in his head that he could probably unknot given time and a moment without the distraction of Cas’s fascinated listening. Dean knows he’s asking questions by the shapes his lips make around the words. 

“Dean?”

He startles, “what?”

“Shall we visit the jelly women now?” Cas is beaming at him over waving leaves of what Dean has a hunch is peppermint. 

“You've uh, got a plant now?” 

“Yes, Margaret says it will be a good starter plant for my herb garden. She says was can use it to make what she calls a julep.” Dean can practically see the air quotes despite the fact that Cas’s hands are currently occupied by a terra cotta pot.

“Your what now?”

“My herb garden. I think I might keep this one near my bedside while I get started. I like the way it smells.” Cas bows his head into the leaves and inhales, then holds out the plant to Dean. “Do you like it?” 

Dean leans forward and takes a sniff. The scent is cool and bright and green. “Yeah, it's real nice, Cas.”

Cas’s eyes crinkle at the corners and he brushes past Dean toward the jelly stand. Dean follows, an image of Cas kneeling in dark tilled earth near the bunker coming into focus in his mind. His hands pat dirt around some leafy bush, and it must be hot while he works because there’s a sheen of sweat on the skin of his back before he turns around, and – 

“Dean.”

Jesus, what is with him today? Dean shakes his head a little and puts on a grin. “Yeah, I'm here, Cas.”

Cas is looking back at him with a little tilt to his head, and Dean figures he must have been lagging behind. He turns up the volume on the grin and strides past Cas, slinging an arm around his shoulders to pull him along. “Let’s get you some goddamn jelly.”

The jelly woman (surely she has a name, he can't just keep calling her “the jelly woman” for Christ’s sake) smiles a welcome as they arrive at her stall, “what can I help you boys with today?”

Dean gestures at Cas with his free hand. “Cas here has just discovered his love of a good PB&J, and we’re here to expand his horizons past Smucker’s grape.” Dean winks conspiratorially at the woman. “And I heard you've got the best jelly on the Great Plains.” 

She laughs and blushes a little. “Well I'm not so sure about that, but I’ve got samples of everything so maybe you boys can decide for yourselves.” She winks back at Dean. “Now it’s Cas, right, honey? Well Cas, I'm about to make you forget grape ever existed.”

She's got tiny wooden spoons and open jars of every kind, and she starts Cas at the end of the line. “Now I'm more of a jam person myself and all my jams are on that side, but let's start you over here with the cherry almond jelly.” She hands Cas a glob on a little wooden spoon. Cas sniffs it a little before delicately putting it in his mouth. He exhales deeply through his nose, features relaxing as his eyes close.

“Yah, it's good stuff, right?” She laughs when Cas takes a moment to respond, eyes still closed and wooden spoon hovering in front of his face.

“This must have been God’s plan when he first created fruit.” 

The jelly woman throws her head back laughing then levels a crinkle-eyed smile at Dean. “He is quite the charmer isn't he? And we haven't even gotten to my famous triple berry kick.” 

Dean just grins back, shrugging a little with his hands in his pockets, content to let her take the reins so they can both watch the wonder that is Cas experiencing new tastes. Dean thinks he's about ready to buy Cas every last jar if it will keep that look of unbridled joy on his face. He's practically having a religious experience after just one flavor. 

Cas gives the wooden spoon a last lick and drops it in the bin in front of her table. “Thank you, that was truly excellent. Could I try the next, please?”

She shoots Dean one more wink and moves to the next jar, walking Cas through cherry apple, cherry berry, peach, raspberry, blueberry, blackberry, more combinations of berry than Dean can keep track of – including her triple berry kick with a touch of jalapeño – all the way to strawberry rhubarb earl grey, setting aside the jars that send Cas into especially inarticulate fits of ecstasy for him to choose from later. Dean just watches, certain he’s got a stupid grin on his face and increasingly certain he doesn’t care. 

“Now I know you came for jelly, but you’ve just got to try my blazzberry lime jam.” The jelly woman (Mary, as it turns out) holds out yet another wooden sampling spoon. 

Cas takes the spoon eagerly, but this time his eyes squint and his nose wrinkles as he rolls the jam around his mouth. “The flavor is delicious, but…” Cas frowns, tilts his head. “I find the texture… unsettling.”

Mary snorts a laugh and puts a hand to her face to cover her laughter. “I think maybe jam is not for you, sweetheart.”

Dean clears his throat, coughs a half-laugh, and slaps a hand on Cas’s shoulder. Pointing at the set aside jars, he says, “why don’t you bag all those up? Seems like Cas has got plenty of PBJs in his future.”

Mary raises her eyebrows a bit. “All these? Sure.” She looks from Dean to Cas with a smile. “You’re a lucky man, Cas.”

Cas smiles broadly back. “Yes. A lucky man.”

***

Sam meets up with them while they’re picking out some local honey, bearing bags packed with what Dean is certain is more green stuff than could possibly be healthy for a grown man. On Mary’s recommendation, they stop by a baker’s stall for fresh bread and scones (what the hell is a scone, even?) to go with all that jelly. On a hunch, Dean seeks out a meat stall and picks up fresh ground round and, feeling a little adventurous after all that jelly tasting – a nice-looking pork loin. 

As they meander back to the Impala, Sam and Cas are geeking out over what seems like every single sight and smell at the market. Dean walks a couple steps behind, laden with bags and a warmth like a big down blanket around his shoulders.


End file.
